Life Isn't A Fairytale
by Pottergirl1
Summary: If anything, every second of their relationship had taught him that life isn't a fairytale. He can't be the prince, he can't sweep her off her feet, he can't hold her and ride off into the sunset for a happily ever after.
1. Chapter 1

**(Okay, I know I've been kinda off the radar for FOREVER, but I think this makes up for it. My friend and Best Beta Reader EVER, Padfoot's Prose, helped me a LOT with this, and if you're a Klaine fan you absolutely have to check out her now-completed story: "You Had Me At Sesame Street". I actually like it better than Kiss (and I LOVE that story) and it needs a lot more love than it's getting at the moment. She needs like a million and two reviews, so go check it out! After you've read this, of course. ;D **

**Honestly, Quinn is my favorite character and I don't think she deserves as much hate as she's been getting for a while. She's always been a good person, I think she was just a little bit confused because everyone can see how much she's been through, and everything she's lost, and loneliness and weakness just aren't feelings she was used to. It shouldn't be what ANYONE'S used to, but I think Quinn has actually dealt relatively well with all the crap she's had to go through. Not saying she couldn't have dealt with it BETTER, but she did do well with everything if you think about it.**

**PEOPLE I NEED TO THANK~ **

**Padfoot's Prose (Cuz she rocks and is responsible for about half of this),**

**And BMontague (she is an amazing author and "The Five Stages Of Quinn Fabray" is where I got my inspiration for this in the first place. :))**

**DISCLAIMER-I own nada, except this amazingly long author's note. If anyone actually read the thing, you get awesome points!)**

Quinn can't tell you for sure what she feels anymore.

A year ago, when she was confident and Miss Popular and perfect, she'd been so sure. Sure of who she loved, what she liked, what she thought – sure with pure confidence thatshe was right. That confidence had defined her, that confidence hadbeen her.

Back then, she could order, and be obeyed. She could feel good, feelnecessary, just knowing that people really listened to her, really wanted to listen to her. But now...

Now she's dirty and ravaged andtouched. She doesn't know why she feels so different now, as she walks down the hallways of McKinley, but she does. She feels like a stranger, like an invader in a place that had been, at another, happier time,her place.

But now it's nothing but another day in prison.

…

Finn didn't doesn't like the new Quinn.

Purple hair, new attitude, and he knows all she's doing is trying to cover up the emptiness she sees in herself. Finn knows that Quinn needs someone, and he knows he's selfish and spiteful for not wanting to be there for her.

Apparently, cheating is the way all the best relationships start. And Puck had been there for Quinn when Finn wasn't. That makes him unimportant, second best, a cast-aside. She'd lefthim, he reminds himself.

But now she's the cast-aside. Deserted by her parents, deserted by Puck, deserted by Beth. Now, she truly has nothing left.

…

Quinn can tell he knows.

The second she walks in the room to sign up for Glee, to anchor herself in the Black Parade again, his eyes meet hers for a split second and he just knows. So easily, so simply, so instinctively.

When Puck talks and she pours out her little secret, she watches his reaction with grim satisfaction.

Because, even though it isn't monumental, it's still a second to be herself again. For a brief moment, she's Miss Popular once more – knowing with certainty that's bitingly, painfully familiar that someone cares. And it's that, just that one little conviction, that keeps her holding on, stops her from becoming another statistic. She needs that, that moment to really be sure of herself again. She needs to not just be the pregnant cheerleader who fulfils all the clichéd expectations.

In retrospect, she knows it took her a while to figure all that out. To figure out how she really felt about it all - about Beth, about Puck, about Shelby, about her reluctant, mismatched,wrongfamily - and to decide whether those feelings were worth keeping, worth showing, or not. For a blissful year she'd denied them all, denied that hole they bore in her very soul, but now she knows that it has always been there, lurking beneath the confidence, behind the smiles, inside her beaten, battered heart.

It took time, maybe too much time, for Quinn to understand how to stop that burning, aching pain in her chest. It took time to figure out why it took so long, too. But she'd discovered the answer eventually, realizing that coating the pain with honey and sugar and compliments and beauty just wasn't enough. She'd searched herself for another solution, one that would work, and when she'd found it, she could hardly believe it. Even she didn't know that grief could destroy her soul this much, turn her into something so bad that this was the only solution. This was the only way to make her feel whole again, feel human again. Feel like the closest thing to Quinn that she can manage.

Because now she wants everyone to be just as damaged as her, because she wants them all to feel it too, to have to live with it like she does. She wants everyone's minds - everyone's entire lives - to be as horribly alone and sick and twisted as hers, and if that makes her selfish and cruel, so be it. She'd do anything to bask in that glow of being liked again. She'd do anything to have it all back, to fill that gap. She'd do anything for Finn and Beth and family - therightfamily, thegoodfamily, the family she'd always meant to have before that one stupid day ruined it all.

…

One day, a week later, Finn realizes just how broken she is.

When the Cheerios walk right past her locker, brush against her like she's nothing, like she had never meant anything to them, he can tell in that moment what she's become. He feels a momentary stab of that pleasant, vindictive pain of revenge before a wave of remorse washes over him. He had promised himself he wouldn't forgive her, but unease prickles beneath his skin as he tears himself away from the girl who had once been his world, his life, his everything.

…

Quinn can tell he's looking at her, and the thought forces her to turn around, biting her lip to hold back tears. He's just talking with his friends as if nothing happened, but she knows the feeling of being looked at and that was definitely it. The feeling of being looked at by him has taken so long to fade that even now she hasn't forgotten it.

But she ignores it all, ignores him, because he doesn't care anymore. Or he doesn't want to care anyone. Does it matter which?

She shuts her locker and walks away in the same way she has for a month now: quick steps, head down, books pressed against her chest like an anchor to herself. It's the nerdy way, and she hates it. Hates being afraid, just like the nerds, of when her next slushy will be. Not if she will get one, but when.

She misses that long, slow way of walking – the way the popular girls walk. Like they have all the time in the world. Like they will always be the bubbly, pretty cheerleaders they are. Like they will always be popular.

They won't, she thinks with bitter pleasure. Like everything else – like school and family and love – it ends.

…

Finn watches her walk out, barely registering that his friend is talking at all. He hates her new style of walking. He can see she hates it too, sensing the tears that threatens to spill from her eyes and trace down her cheek with the line of crystal that haunted his dreams after she broke his heart. He hates that she doesn't swing her hips anymore, doesn't chatter nonstop like she used to. She isn'tQuinn, and it kills him inside.

And he doesn't know how on earth he manages without her, but right now it's her that worries him more. She isn't managing. Anyone can tell that. But only he seems to have noticed.

Finn is afraid of her, of this new Quinn. What if one day she gets fed up and does something drastic? The thought of it – of her getting hurt – scares him more than he'd care to admit. And even though he's freakingtiredof hearing the whispers and feeling the stares and pretending that his whole world doesn't crash down every time she gets hurt (and, God, he knows he's part of it, and that just makes it worse), he still wants her.

He wants that vanilla rose scent, and can't seem to find it anywhere else. He wants her smile, her laugh, her hand grasping his. He wants that feeling, that joy he gets every time she really, truly is happy. Really, truly happy.

But he can't have it. Not now.

If anything, every second of their relationship had taught him that life isn't a fairytale. He can't be the prince, he can't sweep her off her feet, he can't hold her and ride off into the sunset for a happily ever after. And even though she mightn't be a princess, she deserves someone like that. Because Finn, more than anyone else, has seen what she had to endure last year, andno onedeserves to have to go through that.

Especially not her. Not the person who hides beneath the hair, the tattoo, the piercing. Not the one with the baby and the family, who almost found the life that she so, so deserves. Not the girl who, in spite of everything – everything – else, Finn still loves in a terrifyingly powerful way.

No, he tells himself as he watches her leave. Not Quinn.


	2. Just For Gina

**(Well, this was just going to be a oneshot, but then I got a PM from the awesome "Dark Goth 18" who said that she wanted to see what happened next to our favorite 'It' couple! It's way late and I'm sorry about that, but I just had no inspiration. And yet again I have to thank Padfoot's Prose for betaing(a word?) and for putting up with my constant whining about how suckishly I write endings. :) I want to restate that she is an AMAZING author, by the way, just in case you still haven't read "You Had Me At Sesame Street". :D Well, enjoy! (I still don't own Glee, by the way. Ah, I remember the times when I could come up with original disclaimers.))**

She held one hand over her hair, a fingernail frozen on the groove of the bottle of hot pink hair dye. In her reflection in the foggy glass, Quinn could see that her hand was trembling, and her grip on the bottle was locked too hard – so hard that it hurt.

Maybe, she thought, if she closed her eyes now, when she opened them it would be done. When she looked back, everything would be different. She would finally have _changed. _Just a simple flick of her finger, a relaxation of her wrist, and her blonde locks would be gone. Just a moment of reckless abandon, that was all it needed. Just a second to finally take control of it all.

But Quinn continued standing unmoving in the shower, feeling the hot streams of water flow down her back and thinking, thinking. She couldn't _not _do it now. It was unexpected, it was new. And she would feel _better_, she promised herself. Just flick the lid.

Numbly, she let her nail open the bottle and tipped it down.

And her hair was pink.

Quinn willed herself not to cry.

…

It was very nearly too late when Finn saw her.

A bit more swagger than Queen Bee level, but there was a _tattoo _on her back, and maybe that gave her a right to strut like that. He hoped to God it was fake. Temporary. But then there was her hair. _Pink_. The beautiful, perfect hair that he had stroked so many times, feeling the blonde strands tickling his nose... it was _short_ and _layered_ and so undeniably _pink_. As if it were making as protest, fighting with renewed, unfamiliar, terrifying vigor to be something different.

Finn was a little scared, to be honest, of this new Quinn. He knew the old one so well, had so many precious memories stashed away that revolved around her. Around _blonde-_Quinn. When he looked at blonde-Quinn, he saw memories: screaming and fighting and kissing until they were exhausted from it all, blasting Pink at two AM, laughing and passing notes and feeling her curled up on his chest and knowing he would have heck to pay in the morning but just not wanting to move her. When he looked at blonde-Quinn, he saw _love_.

And there was absolutely no way he wouldn't at least _try _get her back now.

…

"Quinn?"

It was the end of school when she heard Finn's voice, and it broke her heart. When she heard that voice, she remembered everything: letting herself go for the first time, fighting over stupid things that made sense only to them, feeling him holding her, urging away her tears and whispering apologies, the taste of burnt chocolate chip cookies and sweet kisses that made up for their bitterness. When she heard that voice, she remembered _perfection_. And there was no way she could run from him now.

"Quinn!" he called again.

She tried to duck, tried to hide, tried, like always, to escape from the inevitable. Because the inevitable was cruel and rude and never lasted-

His strong hand gripped her arm, forcing her to turn around. Finn stood there as she knew he would, looking adorably confused and even slightly frightened. That reaction – despite her having gotten it from a lot of people so far – felt different from him. It didn't make her feel nearly as good as she'd thought it would. In fact, it made her feel almost sick, remembering fighting back tears as she rubbed in the dye.

That look made her feel like the girl who was strong enough to hurt Finn. Strong enough to say no to him – to anyone – and confident enough to get away with it. The girl who she used to be: a hero of her own story, of her own life. Instead, she was now a helpless maiden, trapped in a tower that she'd stupidly built around herself. Now, the tattoo was her dragon, the hair was her enchanted forest and the emotions she kept chained down were prisoners in the dungeons. She was writing her own horror story, her own fairytale-gone-wrong. No, worse than that, she was _living _it.

At the thought, a sudden flaming tongue of anger whipped through Quinn's body. Anger at Finn for reminding her, making her question herself and her choices and her life. Anger at herself for being so _weak_.

She had _chosen_ to make these changes, _chosen_ to do these things, all in an attempt to rid herself of that feeling of being trapped. And what gave Finn the right to stare down at her like that, as if it was _wrong_? What right did he have to care? Not now. Not _ever again_.

None of it was fair.

She yanked her arm away from Finn violently, fighting to hide a vindictive smirk as he flinched as though she'd burned him.

"What do you want, Hudson?" she asked casually, coldly. "I don't have all day."

Finn had probably heard the tone a million times before, when Quinn used to practice it on people she didn't like, but this was the first time it was directed at him. As she spoke, Quinn examined her nails, the perfect balance between _I just don't care_ and _I'm really not interested in anything you might have to say_. It was usually enough to ward off most people.

But Finn wasn't 'most people', and he took her wrist gently as he whispered, "Please don't, Quinn. Just stop. _Please_."

The words and the emotion behind them were impossible not to understand, but Quinn only scoffed, "Stop _what _exactly, Hudson? You don't have any power over me," in reply.

Finn raised his eyebrows.

"My name is _Finn._" _And you know that well enough. _"And no, maybe I don't have any power over you, but that doesn't stop me wanting to help you. I want to know why you are doing this. And don't go spewing that crap that no one cares. You know we all do."

Quinn's mouth snapped shut, and she eyed Finn's expression. So sincere, so transparent. Why didn't he have to do anything – change anything at all – to be like that? How could he just come over here and _judge _and _want to help_? He'd given up that right too, at the same time he'd given up his right to care. He'd given it all up long ago. Even before she'd given up on him.

Because Quinn _had_ given up. On him and on the world and on everything in between. Right?

"I'm not perfect anymore," she blurted, and whatever she had expected to come out of her mouth right then, it wasn't _that_. But it was true enough, somehow serving as a key or really more of battering ram – sending the walls of her prison crashing down as all the emotions ran free. So she just kept talking.

"I'm _not_ perfect anymore, Finn. I'm not cheer captain or prom queen or even _happy_. God, I can't even get my own baby back! I'm a _mess_, and I'm not- not _good_ like I used to be. I broke and I changed and I'm not changing back, because it's just _too hard_ to be that girl. To be perfect."

Finn was gaping, silenced by the confession.

"_There_," Quinn said, sharp and loud and harsh, "Is that what you wanted to hear?"

Tears were tracing down her cheeks, but she just wiped them away roughly and turned to walk away. Yet, before she could disappear, before she could finally leave him behind for good, there were a pair of warm lips on hers.

"You're perfect to me," Finn whispered, pulling back for a moment. Quinn gasped at the feeling of his breath ghosting over her mouth. "And I think I've loved you ever since I first saw you."

And there it was. _That_ was what gave him the right.

Quinn closed her eyes, shutting out everything but the feeling of Finn's hands cupping her face, holding her like she was delicate, like she was beautiful. Like her hair wasn't pink anymore. Like she was perfect once again.

For a wonderful moment of blindness, of solace, of _clarity_, she saw it. She saw the girl he saw: blonde and confident and brave. Not unmarred – not pure – but somehow more wonderful because of her scars. In that moment, she saw the heroine who had fought her way out of the castle, past the dragon, through the forest. A girl who was strong enough to come back from it all, from her own self-imprisonment.

But then she opened her eyes and she was herself again. Hopeless, scared, alone.

_Not alone_, Finn's eyes – so honest and loving and _right there_ – seemed to say. _Never, ever alone_.

And okay, maybe life wasn't really anything like a fairytale. Maybe Quinn couldn't slay the dragon, couldn't act as the hero she wished she could be. But that was why Finn was there. Not to be a knight in shining armor or a Prince Charming, but just to be _there_. To be a person whose heart was so completely tied with hers that he couldn't not _care_ and _want_ and _love_.

So, impossible as it maybe have seemed, unlikely as it was, when the couple leaned back in for another kiss, they knew they were headed for a happily ever after.


End file.
